Микки Спиллейн - Last Stage to Hell Junction

York went over and shook the boy by a shoulder, jerking him awake, Randy’s close-set eyes leaping open, his hand dropping to his weapon. But York swatted the kid’s arm away — not hard. No need to alienate him.

“Hargrave has a new post for you,” York said.

Randy batted his eyes. “...huh?”

“He’s in the parlor waiting with instructions.”

The boy tasted his mouth, grimaced at the flavor, got to his feet, and went rattling down the stairs, stumbling once but catching himself.

Too bad , York thought. If he broke his neck, he might save me some trouble...

The lawman sat down in the chair where Randy had been, and waited. In about fifteen minutes, Hargrave came up the stairs, his usual confident self. The actor ambled over to the seated York.

“Quiet?” Hargrave asked.

“Not a peep.”

Hargrave heaved a sigh, half-smirked, his arms folded. “ ‘We have seen better days.’ ”

York grinned up at him. “That you or Shakespeare talkin’?”

“Both. We’ll have a better day tomorrow. Riches await.”

“Don’t count Parker and his people out,” York advised. “ ‘A rich man’s wealth is his fortress.’ ”

Hargrave half-smiled. “That’s not the Bard.”

“No, it’s the Bible.”

Hargrave shrugged. “To each his own.”

The outlaw leader walked down the corridor across the stairwell from the rooms of the hostages. He knocked at his own door and a smiling Juanita answered in a loose white nightgown, her breasts moving beneath the fabric like kittens playing in a sack. She threw her arms around him, as if they’d been apart for weeks. Hargrave kissed her the same way, put his hands on her waist and lifted her off her bare feet, then walked her in backward, using a heel to kick the door shut behind them. Lustful noises followed, including but not limited to bedsprings singing.

York waited it out. Silence came in ten minutes or so, but he took a good half hour before getting up and going over to knock lightly at 2B.

“Me,” he told the door, and worked the master key in the lock and went in.

Parker met him, closing the door quietly behind them.

“We’ve caught some luck,” York said, keeping his voice down. “I’ve replaced young Randabaugh as this floor’s watchdog.”

Parker spoke softly, too. “How did you manage that?”

“I didn’t. Hargrave moved the dolt to the kitchen to stand guard at the back. There’s some bad luck in that, too — Hargrave’s increasing the guard everywhere, in anticipation of the legendary Caleb York coming.”

Parker smiled, his first in a while. “They don’t know he’s already here.”

“Thankfully, no,” York said. “Those thieves took your watch off you, didn’t they?”

“Yes. How on earth did you know that?”

“Never mind. Here’s another. Thought one might come in handy for you.” He passed it to Parker.

While a mildly puzzled Parker took the spare watch, York removed his own timepiece from his left-hand trouser pocket. “I have five after one.”

“I’m closer to ten after.”

“Set it back to jibe with mine. At four sharp, unless there’s been gunfire or some other commotion, collect the women and come down to the kitchen. I’ll leave the doors to these rooms unlocked.”

Parker looked puzzled again. “Why would there be gunfire, Caleb?”

He pointed at the floor. “Randy is guarding the back door now, remember — which is our best escape route. I’m going in there and taking him out.”

“Kill him?”

“Why, do you object?”

Parker grunted a laugh. “Kill him twice for all I care.”

“I mean to pistol-whip him hard enough that he may never wake. I’ll tie his hands behind him in case he does. But should I encounter trouble that I don’t anticipate — for example, should the Randabaugh kid be smarter than I think he is...”

“Which I doubt.”

“As do I. But maybe he’s tougher than I imagine, or perhaps someone will happen along while I’m dealing with him... in which case bullets will fly and you’ll hear ’em. In that event, stay put and I’ll collect you, if I survive. If I don’t, your people will have to pay that ransom.”

“Understood. But this bunch won’t get the better of you, Caleb York.”

“It could happen. An idiot killed Hickok, you know.” He patted the businessman on the shoulder. “I’ll alert the ladies.”

York knocked at 3B, unlocked it, but didn’t go in, whispering, “Are you decent, ladies?”

Rita appeared at the cracked door. “I would imagine that’s a matter of opinion.” Even without face paint, she was a pretty damn thing. Maybe prettier without it.

York slipped inside, shut himself in. Willa was standing near the bed, her expression keen and only touched with trouble. Both women were still in their waist-sashed dressing robes. He doubted either had been sleeping.

Very quickly, Rita said, “We’ve been talking, Caleb. We have a window...” She pointed at it. “... and can see a wooded area nearby, back there, beyond the empty houses. Why don’t we tie together these bedclothes...”

“As a makeshift rope,” Willa added.

“... and you could be on the ground, armed and ready, and—”

Overwhelmed by the rush of words, York held his palms out in a “stop” motion, and softly said, “Much as I admire your ingenuity, ladies, and despite how it pleases me to see the two of you working so well together... the situation has changed.”

He explained that Randy Randabaugh was watching the back door now, there in the kitchen. But he also told them he intended to “take care of” the boy and lead them to freedom without resorting to tying sheets and blankets together and risking a fall.

Rita smirked. “Now I wish I hadn’t bothered buttering that boy up.”

As Rita stood there facing him, with Willa coming up behind her, York said, “Do either of you have a timepiece?”

Neither did.

“No matter,” he said. “Parker does, and he’ll gather you at four a.m. — it’s just past two now — and you three will sneak down to the kitchen and out with me.”

Willa asked, “What about the doctor?”

“I haven’t worked that out,” York admitted. “We may have to leave him here on his own best devices. The gang has a wounded man and Miller’s a doctor, after all. That may be enough to keep him alive.”

Rita said, “You don’t fool me, Caleb.”

“I’m not trying to.”

Her eyes were tight. “Yes you are. You’ll get us out of here and have your deputy accompany us, then when once we’re safely away, you will go back in here, gun blazing, to effect the doctor’s rescue.”

She was exactly right.

“No,” he said. “I’ll return with a posse.”

Rita paused but then left it at that, though he doubted she really believed him. She surely knew that by the time he could escort them back to Trinidad and raise a posse and return, the Hargrave bunch would be long gone, either dragging the doc along or leaving him behind.

Dead.

“Do either of you,” York asked, “have riding breeches along?”

Rita smirked. “For a clothes-buying spree in Denver? Not hardly.”

Willa moved up next to the saloon owner. “I do. Several pair.”

Rita gave her a funny look.

Willa gave Rita a funny look right back, saying to her, “I like to go riding. It’s beautiful country there. Some of us see the West for more than a place to make money off the weaknesses of men.”

Rita’s expression clearly said the other female was a lunatic, and appeared to be looking for just the right words to express that opinion, so York thought he’d better settle them some.

“You two need to keep getting along,” he said. “You can wait till we’re back in Trinidad before goin’ all catty again.”